No Coincidence
by WitchwithKids
Summary: Does anyone really believe that Varric told the WHOLE story? It's no coincidence that the Hero of Ferelden and the Champion of Kirkwall both disappeared before Thedas went to the Void in a hand-basket. But that is a tale our beloved beardless dwarf will never tell...
1. Chapter 1

**No Coincidence: Chapter One**

The Warden-Commander sighed as she stared at the pile of paperwork on the desk with heavy eyes. Dozens of requests from farmers, nobles and tradesmen that had made it past Seneschal Varel's scrutiny now sat before her awaiting her signature. But as much as she both admired and envied his ability to weed through the petitions that were brought before the Arl of Amaranthine, the Warden always took the time to read what she was signing into law.

A noble. Maker, she would never be used to the idea. If it weren't for Varel's gentle practicality and Nathaniel's cheeky advice, she would have run screaming from Vigil's Keep months ago. But the two men had never steered her wrong, and between the three of them, the Arling was running more smoothly than anyone, herself included, had ever expected it to.

The castle was eerily quiet, a testament to the late hours that the Warden always seemed to keep. First Watch, her lieutenants liked to joke, a habit she hadn't been able to break since the days of the Blight nearly a year past. She was always the last of the household to retire, yet every morning, she was up at first light. This night was later than most, so immersed had she been in the paperwork. Blinking at the scrolls on her desk, she stood, stretched, then grabbed a light cloak before slipping out the door and away from the monotony of what had become her new life.

Nathaniel Howe had shown her most of the hidden passageways he knew of at the Keep. The rest she had discovered on her own. She took one of them now, her feet padding silently on the stone as she wound her way through hallways and up stairwells that only a child, or an elf, would be able to navigate with any semblance of ease. When she finally emerged, the wind whipped at her face and stung her ears, but it bothered her not knowing that she was only steps away from the tower balcony that would provide shelter from the elements.

There was a figure standing there, and if she weren't familiar with his concealment tactics, the Warden-Commander would never have seen him. But they had fine-tuned their senses to one another, she and Nathaniel, more so than she ever had with any of her companions before being branded the Hero of Ferelden. He was the brother she had always wanted, her twin in skill and personality, if not by blood.

Nathaniel knew she had arrived. If it had been anyone else, they would have been flung from the battlements already. Instead he stood in quiet introspection, allowing her to approach as they stared into the night together.

"Do you know what tonight is, Kalli?" She did indeed, but instead of speaking, Kallian Tabris simply leaned her head against his arm sympathetically. "I know we don't talk about it much, but it still weighs on my mind now and again. About how I never really knew him. How much differently I could have turned out if I hadn't spend all those years in the Free Marches."

Though it wasn't truly chilly, she felt Nathaniel shiver. Kallian had helped him through the worst of his grief, short-lived though it was once he had the truth of Rendon Howe's atrocities, and she knew he was still plagued by a guilty conscience concerning his foiled attempt on her life. Little had she known one year ago that by killing the former Arl of Amaranthine, she would set in motion the events that would lead to his eldest son becoming her closest friend.

In the distance, she heard the sound of an approaching horse. After a few moments of letting Nathaniel stew in his thoughts, Kallian alerted him to it, which he acknowledged by turning towards the gate. In the courtyard below, the guards shouted first a warning, then a greeting as the gates were opened and the rider allowed in. They watched as he dismounted, a sleepy page leading the gelding to the stable as the man in Warden blue made a beeline for the Keep itself.

"One of Stroud's scouts," she mentioned.

"Which means he'll be here by tomorrow evening," added Nathaniel.

"Bastard better have my armor," she muttered, allowing her friend to lead her to the stairs. "And my recruits."

I

For the third morning in a row, Carver Hawke woke up in a bed. Granted, it was a bunk, in a room full of other Grey Wardens, but still, it was a far cry from a bedroll on the hard stone of the Deep Roads. Opening his eyes, he cautiously glanced at the two empty bunks across the room. He had known that not all recruits survived the Joining, but it was still hard to accept the loss of the people he had fought next to for three months. Unlike Carver, they hadn't needed to be brought into the order immediately, and so Stroud had waited until their return to Vigil's Keep to perform the ceremony. The Warden-Commander herself had overseen the rite, and the pain on her face seemed to be just as genuine as those who had arrived with the fallen recruits.

Easing himself out of bed, Carver's thoughts drifted to the leader of the Ferelden Wardens. Kallian Tabris was an enigma to him. She was young, perhaps only a year or two older than himself, and easily one of the most beautiful elven women he had ever seen. Her eyes and hair were both a rich dark brown, with light scars crisscrossed on sun-kissed skin, and he wondered for a brief moment if maybe she had a touch of Rivaini in her bloodline. Isabella once bragged how she had met the Hero of Ferelden, but the pirate's tales paled in comparison. Perhaps the Warden-Commander **wasn't** ten feet tall, but the young warrior was honestly more impressed with the woman he had so far only seen and not spoken to directly.

So deep in thought was Carver as he made his way to the Keep for the morning meal that he almost missed the sounds of a scuffle in the training yard. Sufficiently distracted, he made his way towards the grunts of exertion and cloud of dust that had risen only to find a sight he hadn't been expecting in the least bit at the early hour of his rising.

Two dark-haired rogues faced off in the haze of the morning light, silent and methodical in their analysis of one another. They were dressed in loose tunics and breeches, barefoot and sweating as they came together, grappled, then came apart again. No weapons, no apparent animosity. Just a simple sparring match between what appeared to be two friends. One had size and strength, the other speed and cunning. As he leaned against a fencepost to watch, Carver had no doubt that when working together, this pair could be as lethal of a team as the rumors at the Keep made them out to be.

"Better step up your game, Kalli," said the larger of the two, wiping a line of sweat from his eyes during a brief respite. "Wouldn't do for the recruits to see their Commander bested in combat."

Nathaniel spared a quick wink in Carver's direction, but doing so had cost him. Like a flash, the Warden-Commander had closed distance, knocking him to the ground and tumbling out of reach before he had time to react. By the time he realized where she had landed, the elf had moved again, quickly clutching his arms and pinning him face-down in the dirt. They stayed like that for a moment, with her knee digging into his back, before he finally yielded and they both stood. Nathaniel clapped a hand on her shoulder before making his way to the water pump, and Carver froze. The Commander's attention was now fully on him.

"You're Hawke, correct?" she asked, and he winced. Being referred to by his surname was something Carver had come to associate with his older brother, not for himself.

"**Carver** Hawke, yes," he replied, hoping she would take the hint to use his given name.

"A Ferelden refugee in the Free Marches, working a mercenary expedition in the Deep Roads and overcome by Darkspawn taint, according to Stroud's reports," she continued, making her way towards where he stood. "Before that?"

"Ostagar."

It was her turn to wince. "Stroud didn't mention that."

"I didn't tell him."

"Fair enough." Nathaniel had returned with a full skein of water, which he handed to the Warden-Commander. She took a long, slow drink before turning her attention back to Carver. "Before **that**?"

The young Hawke brother sighed, wondering how much he should tell her. How much she really wanted to know. He settled on the simple truth.

"Just a simple country boy with a big sword living in his family's shadow."

I

Garrett Hawke stared at the looming building before him, apprehension mixed with excitement. He and Varric had just returned from the Deep Roads to collect the remaining treasure that had been stashed carefully in the rock wraith's lair. The first trip had given him enough to buy the Amell Estate. Their second, enough to furnish it. Lavishly. He hadn't seen what all his mother had done to the place, but it was sure to be more extravagant than Garrett was comfortable with.

He knew that Bodahn would have whisked away the goods from this final trip as soon as it had been delivered while he avoided the manor to have a drink with his friends. The dwarf had made good on his word to manage the estate for him in payment for saving his son, but Garrett knew that Sandal hadn't really needed rescuing and guilt nagged at him for allowing the merchant family into his service.

"Are you going to go inside, or will you just stare at it all night?" came the deep voice of his elven companion.

"I haven't stepped foot within those walls since I bought it, Fenris," he replied. "I'm almost afraid of what Mother has done to it."

"If you need a change of scenery, Sweet Thing..." Isabella teased, running a hand along his bicep and forcing Garrett's mouth to quirk up in a grin. One day he might be tempted to take up that offer. So far, however, he'd managed to resist.

"Go home, Hawke."

Garrett sighed, then turned to his friend. Clasping Fenris' hand, he smiled warmly at the former slave.

"I will. Thank you. **Both** of you," he said with a spared wink for the pirate. "If you ever need anything..."

"We know where to find you," Fenris completed before stepping back into the shadows, likely in retreat to his own debilitated mansion. Isabella gave his arse a quick pinch before sneaking off in the opposite direction, leaving the newly-annointed noble to his own devices.

His first observation upon walking through the door was that it smelled...well, homey. The choking dust and slaver stench had been washed away, replaced by the clean smell of a welcoming fire in the front room. He doubted that anyone would be up at that late hour, and so Garrett mostly ignored the decor as he made his way through the house towards the suite he had claimed for himself.

The bed was...enormous. His entire family could have slept comfortably on it. A huge fireplace, four wardrobes that would hold more clothing than he could conceive of ever owning, and (oh, thank the Maker!) a writing desk. It was this thing he noticed last, and the first that he went to. Atop the sheaves of parchment was a single sealed letter, addressed simply to "Brother."

Garrett ripped open the wax and plopped down in the seat provided. He hadn't heard from Carver in months, and desperately wanted to know that his surviving sibling was doing well with the Wardens. The first letter had been forgiving, but still bitter. Perhaps this new one was a sign that the brothers could mend whatever rift had come between them so many years ago.

_Garrett,_

_I've tried three times to write this blighted note and still can't get it right. But you've always been the eloquent one, so I guess it doesn't really matter if I am or not. I still want to hate you. Still want to be bitter about being sent away from our family. But I can't. The work I've done with the Grey Wardens these past six months has given me more purpose and responsibility than I ever believed myself to have earned as both a soldier and a mercenary in the four years before._

_I'm home now. Not just figuratively. I've been stationed at Vigil's Keep. We arrived six days ago. It's not Lothering. I don't even think Lothering is really Lothering anymore. But I'm back in the land of our birth, and there is another here who was at Ostagar. The Warden-Commander, the Hero of Ferelden herself. A strong, beautiful, remarkable woman who could kick Isabella's arse from here to Kirkwall without breaking a sweat. (And you can tell that pirate wench I said as much, too!)_

_Take care of Mother. You're a man of some means now, I imagine. Please keep in touch and let me know how she's really doing. I love her, but she does have a tendency to make too much or too little of things. I know I can at least count on you to be honest with me._

_Carver_

"The Hero of Ferelden, huh?" Garrett said to the empty room after reading Carver's letter a second time. "Won't Varric have a field day with that."

* * *

****Disclaimer** Bioware owns Dragon Age. **

**To my readers: Thanks in advance to those of you who have taken a peek at my newest venture into the Dragon Age universe. It started as a little dribble to help me get rid of some writer's block on my other stories, and then took on a life of it's own. I don't know exactly where this journey will take us, but I have some ideas & I'm glad you're along for the ride.**


	2. Chapter 2

**No Coincidence: Chapter 2**

Hidden in the shadows of the Royal Palace in Denerim, a shadow lurked. Brown eyes scanned the crowd, taking note of who was familiar, who was new, and who didn't belong. There were a lot more nobles at this event than made Kallian comfortable, but Queen Anora had all but begged her to attend. This was a party to celebrate the one year passing of the fall of the Arch-demon, though the monarch used it more as a memorial to her father's sacrifice than to honor the woman who had united the country.

"Is it possible for you to look less excited to be here, my sweet?" teased a richly seductive voice from nearby. Her lip quirked up in a grin as Zevran materialized from around the corner, adding a small measure of comfort to the stuffiness of the occasion.

"Only if Loghain were to come back from the dead," she replied. As an afterthought, Kallian added, "Or if Alistair walked through the door."

The dashing former Crow chuckled. "I have no fear of either happening, just as I have none about this."

On his final word, Zevran led her to the floor with the same fluid motion that he used to maneuver around his enemies in combat. Kallian knew it was no use to protest. He had done the same at the Hero's Ball a year prior, his flirtations and dry optimism a welcome change from the propriety of the nobles in their company. She knew their sudden appearance on the dance floor had caused heads to turn, for many had assumed they were intimately involved during their journeys across Ferelden.

And why wouldn't they? Zev's light features complimented her dark, both of them sought after as beautiful and exotic specimens of their race. He had spent countless hours teaching her the art of being an assassin, which she took to like a natural and earned his constant praise. And while Zevran had never formed as strong a bond with her as she had with Nathaniel, the elf's companionship was always welcome.

"So tell me true, my beautiful Warden," he whispered in her ear as they spun around the crowd. "How is life as Commander of the Grey?"

"Mostly boring, with bits of mind-boggling terror thrown in for good measure."

The Antivan chuckled briefly before leaning in once more, his breath tickling her neck. Any other woman would have been putty in his hands, but her friend's charms had never managed to lure her into his bed. "There are rumors that the eldest son of Rendon Howe has joined the Wardens. How is that working out for you?"

"Surprisingly well," she admitted, launching into the short version of the story on how she had met Nathaniel. By the time Zevran had whisked her away from dancing, Kallian found herself seated at a quiet table with a drink in her hand and a half dozen familiar faces listening intently to the tale of the Brood Mother and the awakened Darkspawn.

"I ran into Nate a few weeks back. Saved my arse, truth be told. He's a good egg," Fergus Cousland contributed at the end of her story. "We pretty much grew up together, so I was worried he'd try to follow in his father's footsteps. Glad he's not, though. He'll do good things for the Howe name with the Wardens."

"Already off to a good start on that, from the sounds of it," added Teagan Guerrin. "He'd have made one hell of an Arl."

Kallian exchanged a knowing glance with Fergus over the rim of her goblet as she sipped at her wine. They had discussed at length the incident which had rekindled the mens' friendship when the Warden-Commander had arrived in Denerim the evening before. Should the right pieces continue to fall into place, Nathaniel could well be on his way to restoring his family's honor and standing in Ferelden.

To any onlooker, the group she had surrounded herself with seemed to be just another small collection of nobles. In addition to herself, Teagan and Fergus, her friends from Dragon's Peak and the Waking Sea had meandered to their table. And if she wasn't mistaken, young Oswyn seemed to be sweet on Alfstanna. She was glad for their company, and the fact that none of them put on airs like so many of the older Banns and Arls had put Kalli and her accompanying Wardens at ease.

Carver Hawke, the young recruit who had come to Vigil's Keep two weeks prior, had been enraptured with every word of her story. She hadn't missed the way his face soured whenever she mentioned Anders or Justice, and Kallian made a mental note to herself to ask him about it before they left Denerim. She long suspected that the flirty blonde mage had managed to slip away during the chaos of the darkspawn attack, but news of his whereabouts had eluded her as completely as he had. If Carver had that information, she could follow up on it.

All thoughts of Anders slipped her mind as the conversation around her continued. As both the Hero of Ferelden and Arlessa of Amaranthine, she was expected to be in the know on political matters, and the greatest topic of the night had been the continually vacant Teyrnir of Gwaren. The queen had yet to assign any new holdings beyond giving the Howe lands to the Grey Wardens, and many nobles were constantly buzzing about the castle hoping she would throw them a bone.

For the most part, Queen Anora had done an excellent job in putting the country back to rights in the aftermath of the blight. Ferelden's people were not starving, villages were starting to rebuild and she had been negotiating trade with other countries. But the state of her holdings were starting to come under fire. Lands that had been completely decimated had lords that presided over virtually nothing. Nobles who had lost their lives to the blight or the civil war had left their estates with no heirs. And Anora had done nothing to remedy the problem when it should have been one of her highest priorities.

"She's worried about appearing to play favorites," Fergus supplied. Out of all of them, he was the only one to have spent a moderate amount of time in the queen's company. Partly because he was the highest ranking noble in court, but Kallian suspected Teyrn Cousland of courting his old childhood friend.

"The annual Landsmeet is in two days, correct?" she asked once there was a lull in conversation. When Teagan and Alfstanna nodded, Kallian continued. "Then we'll put our heads together tomorrow on this matter and bring it to the queen before the Landsmeet. Fergus, I trust you can get us an audience?"

"I can arrange a casual breakfast meeting if that suits you all."

"Excellent. Now go. All of you. Enough politics for one night." Kallian shooed them all away from the table with a wave of her hands, glad to see that they had taken the dismissal in the lighthearted tone she had intended. Even her Wardens had broken off to mingle. As the small crowd parted, she looked cautiously for a way out of the throne room, but a hand on her shoulder put a stop to her escape plan before she could even stand.

"You're can't call the retreat just yet, Warden Commander," teased the Bann of Rainesfere as he helped her stand. "If I let you go now, you'll be up until dawn doing all the work for us."

"Sadly, you're probably right," she admitted, allowing him to lead her into the dance she knew he had been craving all evening. In truth, Kallian had been hoping he would stay behind when the others left. It had been damn near a year since seeing Teagan, but she had been busy with the Wardens and he'd been off trying to find Alistair. They'd written a few times since the end of the Blight, but the letters were cold comfort given that they mostly droned on about the various rebuilding tactics they were utilizing on their holdings.

"So what's the plan?" he asked as they eased into a respectable stance on the dance floor.

"It mostly depends on if Fergus will ever manage to stammer out a proposal."

Teagan chuckled, his blue eyes twinkling. "He's been skirting around that for almost two months. But that will leave both Highever and Gwaren in need of new teyrns. How does that help?"

"I have someone in mind for Loghain's holdings. And Highever will stay in Cousland hands." She bit her lip and looked away briefly before adding, "Mostly."

The look of shock on the Bann's face was priceless. He was a smart man, able to make accurate assumptions from the smallest bit of information. Kallian had no doubt that he had just unraveled one of the best-kept secrets from the war. His next words proved it.

"Elissa?" The Warden Commander grinned, her eyes closing to mischievous slits. "But she'll need heirs to keep...oh, Maker. **That's** what that look to Fergus was about."

"Oh, Teagan," she teased. "That's just the tip of the iceberg."

"You, my dear Kallian, are entirely too good at the political game," he replied, spinning her to end the dance as they saw Arl Bryland moving in for a turn of his own.

"I know," she admitted, giving him a friendly peck on the cheek. "Which is why I'm maneuvering myself out of it."

I

Garrett Hawke was drunk. As were all of his companions. Well, at least the ones sitting at the table staring at their cards.

"This is an evil, evil game, Varric," he managed to slur, giving his dwarven companion a lopsided scowl.

"There's a reason it's called 'Wicked Grace,' Hawke," came the reply. "Now are you going to fold or up the ante?"

Reluctantly, Garrett glanced at his cards and tossed two silver into the steadily growing pile of coin. The dwarf and the elf matched him. Anders folded.

"You're no fun," Isabella purred, adding her own coin and winking at the blonde mage.

"I learned that it's best to hold onto my coin when playing in the company of rogues."

"But Blondie, this is your first time at our table. Surely you can trust us not to cheat you just yet," teased Varric.

"You've obviously never played against the Warden Commander," Anders grumbled.

"Oh, **she's** good," agreed Isabella. "Beat the pants off me on more than one occasion."

"Literally?" asked the mage, perking up for what sounded to him like a good story.

"Sadly, no. It wasn't for lack of trying, though. Maker's breath, she has the most amazing eyes..."

"And hair you want to bury your hands in..."

"And that beautiful golden skin..."

"And legs. Don't forget the legs, Isabella."

The pirate and the mage went on like that while the other three men at the table sat back and continued the game without them. It was honestly more than Garrett had ever wanted to know about the Hero of Ferelden, but at least his brother's account of her beauty hadn't been overestimated. If anything, he wanted to know more about her background. Who she was, where she came from. As a man who had risen from a Ferelden refugee into Kirkwall nobility, he felt a certain kinship with the woman. But when Isabella made a lewd comment about the Commander's ears, it was Fenris who interrupted.

"Are you saying that the Hero of Ferelden is an **elf**?"

"Born and raised in Denerim's alienage if my sources tell me true," Varric responded. "Even managed to put down a Tevinter slaving ring."

"Hawke, I'm leaving you to join the Grey Wardens. Tomorrow. When I'm sober."

The crowd at the table roared with laughter, and even the broody elf joined in. Garrett was glad to see his friend finally relax, even if he was jesting about leaving Kirkwall. His sudden rise into Hightown had created entirely too much downtime for them all, and he knew it wouldn't be long before they started looking for trouble again. Or, as it always managed to turn out, for trouble to find them.

Because that was one other thing he seemed to have in common with the Hero. Challenges were drawn to them like a moth to flame. Garrett figured it wouldn't be long before chaos threw them onto the same path. And he wasn't sure if he was dreading or looking forward to it.

* * *

****Disclaimer** Dragon Age doesn't belong to me.**

**A/N: I know the Dragon Age fans are hard to please, so reviews/follows/favorites are the best motivators to keep me writing. Bear with me. Hawke and Tabris will be joining forces in a couple more chapters.**


	3. Chapter 3

**No Coincidence: Chapter 3**

They made for an interesting group, standing on the docks of Amaranthine, looking out across the Waking Sea as the rising sun shimmered across the water. The noble, the merchant, and the Warden. Nathaniel watched them from a few meters away, keeping an eye out for trouble. The pier was always busy this time of day, though he was glad that it was the bustle of commerce and not the push of sailors that filled the streets.

To the northeast, the sails of _Dawn's Dynasty _could be seen in the growing light. Soon, they'd be lowered as the ship approached port, and he noticed that Kallian allowed herself a small bounce of excitement. She had been trading exclusively with the captain since her rise to Warden Commander, but she had spent the better part of two weeks preparing to make some changes to that arrangement.

"I still can't believe you're sending this entire shipment to Soldier's Peak," Teagan grumbled, though there was an undertone of humor in his voice. He had just spent the past two days making his own negotiations and trade agreements, working with Seneschal Varel to slowly earn his place as Arl of Amaranthine. It would be a slow transition, easing the Wardens back into their former holding at the Peak, but Nathaniel knew that Kalli needed to get herself out of Ferelden politics and concentrate on her true duties.

He was skeptical at first about her desire to step down as Arl. She had devoted nearly a year to rebuilding Vigil's Keep and restructuring the alliances to keep it running smoothly. The people of her holding had come to love and respect her, not just as the Hero of Ferelden, but as their lord and keeper. The Arling had thrived under her care in ways that it never had under his father's scrutiny, and Nathaniel had to admit that he would number among those who would be saddened to see her go.

But she had chosen well with Bann Teagan. As the younger brother and former heir to Redcliffe's Arl, few had paid him much mind before the blight. But he was the first to speak out against the civil war, and had run Eamon's estate while the Arl had lain on what many thought would be his deathbed. Teagan was one of Kallian's staunchest supporters, and one of the few individuals she counted among her small circle of close friends.

"There isn't anything coming in that Vigil's Keep can't already provide for itself," the Warden Commander replied. "The fields and mines have all been cleared of Darkspawn, the refugees have either gone home or settled in as residents, and you have two units of troops from Rainesfere coming in to replace the Grey Wardens when we leave. I'd say you're getting the better end of the deal."

"The Peak will be ready for occupancy before the heavy snows set in," Levi Dryden added. "That Circle mage friend of yours has done a bang-up job of cleaning all the dark magic that was left behind, and the artificers are about to finish up work the barracks. Just too damn bad there's no good farmland in the area."

"We have the mines."

"And Mikhael."

Kallian smiled, running a finger over the hilt of the blade at her left hip. Nathaniel knew it wasn't one of Mikhael Dryden's original pieces, but the smith had taken the beloved keepsake and worked it into a beautiful and deadly weapon.

"Do you still have Alistair's equipment?"

"Yes, ma'am."

Over her head, Teagan looked back at Nathaniel at the mention of her companion's name. She rarely spoke of him, and the one time she did so at length, he understood why. As far as anyone else knew, she wanted him found for the Wardens, and that was mostly true. But she missed him terribly, and beneath the anger at his abrupt departure from her company was gut-wrenching heartache.

_Have you found him?_ Nathaniel asked silently, locking his gaze with the soon-to-be Arl. Teagan shook his head and frowned, then returned his attention to Kallian. She seemed to have shrugged off any potential conversation on the subject, shifting her concentration on the ship that was now beginning to dock.

The shouts of the sailors could be heard as the captain rushed around the deck giving orders. The masts were bare, the oars pulled in, and someone had jumped to the pier to begin tie downs once the ship was close enough. Nathaniel heard the drop of the anchor, the scrape of wood as the gangplank was extended, and the whoop of excitement when the first mate caught sight of the Commander of the Grey.

"Ey, Lis!" someone called from on board. "Your welcoming committee's here!"

"How many?" A shiver ran up Nathaniel's spine at the responding voice. It couldn't be. It wasn't possible.

"Four. No, three. Wait...four."

"Which is it?" There was no way it could be her. His father had killed her. It was just someone who sounded like her. And had a similar name.

"Definitely four."

The face that belonged to the voice appeared on the deck and Nathaniel's heart launched itself into his throat. Not a ghost. And definitely not the girl he left behind a decade ago. Her skin had the radiant glow of a woman who had been living at sea, her auburn hair streaked with golden highlights and shorn off to shoulder-length. But her eyes, those blue orbs as dark as the Amaranthine Ocean itself, hadn't changed one bit, and they widened when Elissa Cousland rested her gaze on Nathaniel.

"Nate?" It was barely more than a whisper, but he heard it over the din of the organized chaos around them. For a moment, she was as transfixed as he was. "Oh, Maker. Nate, how did you..." Whatever she wanted to say never came out. Instead she snaked her way through the crowd and cargo to get to him as fast as she could before launching herself into his arms.

Nathaniel held onto her as he had never dared to in his youth. Pride abandoned, he felt tears sting his eyes as his beloved Elissa buried her face against his neck and openly wept with relief. "You're alive. Oh, Blessed Andraste, she saved you," she murmured, clinging to him.

"She saved us both," was his strangled reply as he pressed his chin against her temple and buried a hand in her hair. He didn't need to ask who "she" was. Given that Elissa had just arrived on _Dawn's Dynasty_, Nathaniel was pretty sure Kallian had been expecting the reunion if she hadn't outright planned it to begin with.

As if he had conjured the Commander with his thoughts, he heard the elvish cursing pouring from her lips a split second before he looked up to see her pacing the dock. Fury flashed in her eyes, and the lighthearted woman from moments before was replaced by her dark and dangerous counterpart. Whatever had caused the transition had to have been delivered by the messenger who stood nearby, clearly exhausted and somewhat taken aback by his leader's disposition.

"What's wrong, Kalli?" he asked as Elissa pulled back, wiped her eyes and gave her attention to the elf.

"Carta. At the Keep."

"What in the Void were they doing there?" the heir of Highever asked, her hand firmly clasped in Nathaniel's though her focus was clearly on the new development.

"They want the Hawke boy."

"Carver?" Nate ventured. "Whatever for?"

"I don't know," Kallian replied, sparing a glance for the ship and the cargo it had begun to unload. "But I intend to find out."

I

"We're not going to get anything new out of him."

Fenris' voice carried across the room as Garrett Hawke rubbed the soreness out of his knuckles. Tied to the chair in front of him was the Carta's agent, eyes glazed but jaw set in stubbornness. He hadn't explained a damned thing about the attack in the middle of the night, and with dusk approaching after a day of interrogation, the mage knew his friend was right.

"I know," he conceded, pulling his dagger from its sheath and jamming it through the attempted-kidnapper's eye. Some people made killing an art. Garrett just wanted it done and over with. "Maybe Varric managed to wrangle up some leads for us."

"I'll bring him here. It's suppertime, and there's no sense in discussing this over the swill at the Hanged Man."

"Thanks."

"And I'll swing by the barracks to let Aveline know that her guardsmen, ah, missed a body."

Garrett nodded, and the elf slipped out the door without another word. He'd forged a strange friendship with the warrior, a man who swore that mages were the bane of his existence yet sought one out for advice and companionship.

It would be at least another half hour before Fenris returned with Varric, so Hawke chose to take some time to wash up before dinner. His mother might get uppity about the guests and conversation, but damned if he'd let her complain about his appearance as well. He stopped by the writing desk to grab his mail before heading up the stairs, and noticed the seal of the Grey Wardens on one of them.

A sudden rush of panic swept through him before realizing that if something had happened to Carver, their mother would have been in a tizzy and come to him long before his own letter had. Deciding that it could wait, Garrett slipped the note into a pocket as he trudged up the stairs.

_Blood of the Hawke_. _What in the Void does that mean?_

He repeated the phrase in his head a dozen times as he washed his face at the water basin and then sprawled out on the bed. Just to rest his eyes. But the aromas from the kitchen lulled him into sleep, and the next thing Garrett knew, his mabari was licking his face while Fenris and Varric watched from the doorway.

"Weren't there any bones in the stew?" he asked, receiving a happy bark in reply. Wiping his cheeks against the pillows, Garrett playfully shoved the beast out of his way and met his friends.

"Anything on your end?"

"Not much, but I got a lead I can follow up on tomorrow."

"It's a starting point, at least."

"What about Junior?"

"What about him? Warn him? Ask if they're after...oh shit." Garrett stopped walking mid-sentence and pulled out the letter he had received. After ushering his friends near the railing and further away from his mother's room, he broke the seal. "I got this today but passed out before I could get to it."

"Well, get to it. Tell us what it says."

The three men made for an interesting sight if anyone had been around to see them. Huddled together like adolescent females, pouring over a letter as Hawke read it quietly to Varric and Fenris.

_To: Garrett Hawke_

_From: Warden-Commander Tabris, Arlessa of Amaranthine_

_A member of the Ferelden Grey Wardens, your brother Carver Hawke, was recently the apparent victim of a failed kidnapping attempt at Vigil's Keep by members of a crime organization known as the Carta. Rest assured the young Warden was neither killed nor injured, but to have him singled out by this notorious group is of grave concern. _

_Interrogation of captured Carta members gave us only that their base of operations is somewhere in the Vinmark Mountains, not far from where you are currently located. Warden Hawke and I will be arriving in Kirkwall as soon as possible to coordinate an investigation._

Garrett could almost feel the glee that radiated from Varric as he skimmed the letter a second time. It nearly bubbled over as the dwarf pulled a second sheet of parchment out from behind the first and glanced it over before handing itto Hawke with a chuckle.

_For the love of Andraste, don't tell anyone we're coming. I'm baffled enough that the Commander is allowing me to look into this, and completely stunned that she is coming with me. We should get to Kirkwall within a day or two of this letter. -Carver_

"So what do we do now?" Fenris asked.

"We have dinner with my mother. Then we see what Varric can dig up. And then we wait for the Wardens."

The Wardens. Maker, this just kept getting messier by the minute.

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